Strike Me Down
by Shatteredsand
Summary: Eli doesn't know how this started and, worse, he doesn't know how to make it stop...He feels dirty and used and worthless. And he wouldn't be in this situation if Fitz could just figure out what the hell he wants and how he feels...Eli/Fitz Non-con
1. It's a LoveHate Thing

**AN: I saw this really awesome Eli/Fitz youtube vid (the only one) and decided that this MUST be done. So I did it…It is slash, which means there will be gayness. Not your cup of tea? Walk away. **

**Warnings: Slash, abuse, Gay!Fitz, Non-con/dub-con (is there a difference? I don't even know...)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi…it's probably for the best….**

**Chapter One**

**It's a Love/Hate Thing**

Fitz fists his hands in Eli's collar, fingers clawing at flesh through fabric for just a second before they clench the material. The wall is suddenly hard against his back, his head making a sickening thunk against the brick.

"Ouch." The word slips out because he knows Fitz hates it when he says it. Well, when he says it like _that _at least_..._

"Shut up." He growls angrily, pull-pushing Eli back into the rough brick. "I fucking hate you."

Then, the way he always does, Fitz crashes his lips to Eli's with a burning passion that's confusion and love and hate all rolled into one. With a slightly heavier dose of the latter. Because Fitz hates being confused and he cannot even begin to understand the concept of love without hate. A hand relinquishes its hold on his collar and begins its descent to the place Eli really wishes it wouldn't go. Fitz stumbles over the skull and crossbones buckle for a moment before reaching his destination.

Eli gasps out as the calloused hand wraps around him. His movements are rough bordering just this side of painful. Fitz draws away from his lips and leaves a smoldering trail of biting kisses across his neck that sting and burn in all the worst ways.

Eli hates this. Hates Fitz and the way he makes him feel. Dirty and used and _worthless_. He doesn't want to be here. He wants to push Fitz away and storm back into the school. He wants to go find Adam and Clare in the caf and smile at him and flirt with her. Maybe, if he ever ended this farce with Fitz, he'd tell Clare that he really liked her and that they should get coffee or something like, you know, a date. Assuming Fitz doesn't kill him first.

Fitz forces their lips together again and shoves his tongue into his mouth. Eli is half choking on the slender pink muscle when he brings his teeth down. Fitz jerks away, eyes dilated with want and lust and need, half pissed beyond words, half impressed. Their kisses are never battles. Fitz comes, Fitz takes, Fitz leaves, Eli wonders what the hell just happened and why he keeps letting it. The end. And, Eli sees now, the idea of him doing more than standing there and having this done to him intrigues Fitz. _Fuck_.

His rough hand loosens from his collar and moves to his face, traces over the delicate gothic features of his toy and Eli feels sick again. Sees something like compassion in his tormentor's eyes and that means that the pain is about to start again because Fitz can't stand the way he feels. The soft emotion swimming in the larger boy's eyes dies and hardens into hate and disgust again; his hands still, then retreat.

When Fitz punches him harshly in the stomach, Eli isn't surprised. But knowing it's coming doesn't make it hurt any less. He doubles over and seriously considers dropping face first onto the dirty pavement. He manages to remain on two feet, which is a good thing since Fitz probably would have kicked him while he was down just for good measure. Said boy turns and walks away, shaking his head with disgust over this...whatever it is he tells himself he has with Eli.

Eli takes a second to remind his body that yes, he really _does _need to breathe. After a moment, he straightens up and forces himself to walk stiffly back into the cafeteria for the last few minutes of lunch. Adam shoots him a questioning glance but lets it drop when Eli shakes his head in refusal, replacing it with one of silent worry. Clare, of course, as to actually ask questions.

"Hey, Eli. Where were you? Lunch is almost over..." Her beautiful and innocent blue eyes look up at him and he wonders would happen to that innocence if he told her the truth. If he said, "Oh, sorry, I was out in the alley behind the school making out with Fitz while he violated me and beat me. Again." She'd probably want him to tell someone. Probably the police. She doesn't really get that the world isn't just black and white. She wouldn't understand that he never said no to Fitz. Might have even encouraged him today in some twisted perverse way. And, honestly, when it all comes down, he doesn't want to tell because he doesn't want anyone to know.

"Morty broke down again." He shrugs. "Had to fix him up right quick or I'd be here forever after school." It's a simple lie, and a believable one. That's the secret to lying: keep it simple, keep it realistic. She doesn't believe it anyway, Eli can see the doubt in her eyes. But she doesn't have any reason to call him out because his answer is perfectly logical, if wholly dishonest. The subject shifts but Eli's barely listening. He can still feel Fitz's hands on him, can still taste his tongue against his own, can still see curiosity and affection battling in those monterous eyes. "I'mma be sick!" He manages to cry out, before bolting from the lunchroom.

The hand clamped firmly over his mouth and his mad rush to the bathroom paint a clear picture and the people in the hall part like the red sea, least he toss his cookies on them. He makes it into the stall in time, not bothering to close the damned thing as he bends over the toilet and violently empties his stomach into the bowl. Even when he has nothing left to lose, he stays hunched over in the stall, dry heaving. Trying to physically expel the sickness that Fitz has forced in him.

Adam stumbles in after a minute, eyes darting wildly. He's either afraid to back in the men's room after the whole "thrown through a window" thing or the pained groaning coming from Eli's mouth isn't enough of a hint for the kid.

"Uh, you want me to get the nurse?" He tries, standing awkwerdly just outside the stall.

"Nah, man." Eli gasps, rolling away from the white porcealin. "I'm good now," Eli doesn't think he's ever uttered a more deceitful statement in his life. He climbs to his feet and brushes past his friend on the way to the sink. He washes his mouth out over and over again, but it doesn't help. Fitz is still the only thing he can taste and he knows that's fucked up because, seriously, he just upchucked and that should override all previous occupants of his taste buds.

"Let get out of here." Adam says, eyes still jumping and hands fidgeting. The first option then. Not that Eli blames him. He'll never be able to walk through that alley again without memories of Fitz haunting him.

Eli and Adam head out and He's not the least bit surprised to find Clare just outside the door waiting for them. Waiting for _him_?

"Eli! Are you okay?" She's running her eyes up and down his body, as if the reason for his illness will suddenly jump out with a bright neon sign. It doesn't.

"Yeah, whatever." Eli says, swiping his bangs out of his face. "Let's just go." He doesn't want to talk about this. He doesn't want to have to come up with another lie to salvage the innocence of those fascinating blue eyes. He doesn't want to acknowledge that he has something to lie about.

He just wants it all to stop, to go away. To be some twisted nightmare that he's about to wake up from.

"Are you sure?" Why does she has to sound so concerned, be so concerned? Can't she just let it drop and pretend everything's okay?

"I'm _fine_." There's more bite in the word than he wants and Clare gets that silently hurt look about her and Eli just wants to lie down and die right there in the hall. "I'm sorry...Can we just go to class now?"

Clare and Adam just nod because, really, what else can they do? He's made it perfectly clear that he's not going to talk about this. And pressing him just makes things worse. So they have no choice but to let him do has he pleases, which is to try and forget this didn't happen. And to pray that it never happens again.

Even though he knows with sickening certainty that it will.

**AN2: What do you guys think? Should I leave it has a one-shot or continue it?**


	2. Inspire the Worst In Me

**AN: Dedicated to Johna, Aradiea, IcyScorpio, LightLifeHardly, and Miranda for being the first five reviewers on the first chapter and asking for its continuation.**

**Warnings: Language (I forgot to mention that last chap...), slash, non-con/dub-con, ELI SHOWER SCENE (for the fangirls out there)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi or this might actually be a plotline...**

**Chapter Two**

**Inspire the Worst In Me**

Eli slides into his seat and prays to every god ever worshipped by man that he can just sit here and be ignored.

"All right, Eli, why don't you go first today."

This is why he doesn't believe in god. "Yeah. All right."

The class looks at him disinterestedly, because no one actually cares about what anyone else has written.

"Wound soul

Festering, putrid, sick

Hollow and cold

Buried beneath the skin

You come, you take

Make me feel stupid and weak

I tremble, I shake

Unable to scream, to speak"

The word sound muffled to his own ears and he hates that his voice has lost it's normal mocking-cool edge and has taken on the warble he used to make fun of.

"Thank you, Eli." The teacher says giving him that _there's something going on, isn't there _look. Eli hates that look because this woman has no idea what's going on in his life. "It's some of your best work..."

"Whatever." He says glaring at her because he can see she wants to ask about his inspiration and how he felt when writing and he doesn't want to tell her these things, doesn't want to explain that his "best work" is a product of powerlessness and violation.

"What happened? That's not what you showed me yesterday." Clare whispers against his neck and Eli wishes that he could just enjoy the sensation without being reminded of everything he's trying to forget.

"I got struck by a sudden bout of inspiration." Eli snaps off, not entirely a lie, and leans forward to avoid any more questions and/or feelings the beautiful girl behind him might invoke.

* * *

Eli wanders over to Morty after waving goodbye to his friends and wanting nothing more than to go home and shower for the next several hours. And who, of all people, happens to have parked his ass on his car? Fitz.

"Hey, freak." His greeting is met with moronic laughter from a gaggle of his flunkies.

"Get off my car." Eli just sighs. He doesn't want to play Fitz's stupid little game. He wants to go home.

"Make me." he scoffs and Eli's not in the mood to indulge him with a verbal spar because he feels dirty just standing in his general vicinity. Losing his temper, he pushes the larger boy roughly to the ground. Bad idea.

_Worst _idea.

Fitz wraps a hand around his leg and jerks until Eli's on the ground beside him. He rolls on top of the goth, legs on either side of his hips, and lands a series of heavy punches. "You had enough, Emo?"

"You still punch like my grandma." Eli snarks out and, really, he should know better by now.

But he's saved by the words every bully hates to hear: "Yo, teacher!" Fitz and his friends magically disappear, leaving Eli with a heavy feeling in his gut, a dull throbbing in his head, and the beginnings of a fun new black eye.

"Damn it." Eli groans out, climbing to his feet. The world spins a little and Eli squeezes his eyes and wills it steady again. No longer teetering on the edge of the universe, he sets himself in the hearse and drives to his house with blatant disregard to public speeding laws.

"Hey, sweetie," his mom tries, but Eli is far from in the mood to play house. He ignores her completely and all but runs to the shower he's been dreaming of since Fitz pushed him out the side door on the way to lunch.

He turns the nozzle as hot as it will go and starts removing the rings that always adorn his fingers. Next to go is the guitar pick chain necklace. Nimble fingers scurry over his skeletal buckle and shuck the black belt from his waist. Steam starts to seep from the shower and Eli throws his vest to the ground and tugs the Dead Hand shirt over his head. His black skinny jeans fall in the same stroke that claims his gray boxers.

The water stings and burns the moment he steps under the steaming spray. It runs like molten lava down the toned muscles of his chest and abs, but it cannot burn Fitz's touch from his skin. He turns his face to the spray and lets the tears he won't admit to having become lost. He chokes back the sob trying to force its way from his throat because, damn it, he is not going to _cry_.

He runs the washcloth over his body again and again. Hard enough to hurt, to rub layer after layer of skin away until everything is red and sore and he still feels dirty.

"Fuck!" He shouts, slamming his fist into the tile in a moment of blind disgust...With himself.

"Elijah! Are you okay?" His mom calls outside the door. And he wants to shout and scream and tell her that no, he's not o-fucking-kay! He's scared and he hurts and he hates himself for letting this happen. And he can't make this _stop_.

"Slipped on the soap." he lies. He wonders if she can hear the numbness of his soul in his voice. He can. And it sickens him.

"All right, dear."

Eli's hand closes around the facet and shuts the water off. He stands, dripping wet and powerless, and wonders how the hell he got to this place. And how he's supposed to get out.


	3. Dream a Little Dream

**AN: Switching it up and throwing down some Fitz. Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh...Don't ask. I don't know... Anywho, I read somwhere that Fitz's name is actually Mark Fitzgerald so I threw in a half reference to that.**

**Warnings: underaged drinking**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi. **

**Chapter Three**

**Dream a Little Dream**

Fitz wanders in half sober, which is half too much. His dad stirs in his reclining chair in front of the fuzzy tv screen and Fitz freezes, prepares to run, well, stumble back out the trailer door he's just entered. But it's late and the elder Fitzgerald has bypassed "one too many" in favor of "one case too many" and is too far gone to wake. Fitz breathes a sigh of relief then makes his way over to his bed.

He pushes a week's worth of discarded items off the old mattress, then collapses heavily onto it. He has to roll over, face up, though because the bed smells like smoke and alcohol and fear, and Fitz doesn't want to deal with that right now. He just wants to sleep.

* * *

Eli smiles his flirty smirk and Fitz kisses it away just because he can. He pulls away, a smile of his own dancing across his face. Eli smirks.

"You kiss like my grandma too." He challenges before crashing his lips to Fitz's. Well, Fitz loves a challenge and he's not about to let this one go unanswered.

He knots his hands in Eli's long, dark hair and pulls. Eli gasps out in pained pleasure and Fitz takes completely advantage. Their tongues twist and dance, battling for control. The goth almost wins, but Fitz claims dominance in the end.

Having won that fight, he moves his lips to Eli's delectable neck. The junior clutches at his back and whimpers his name. Fitz feels like a god when Eli says his name like that.

Fitz sinks his teeth into Eli's soft flesh, equal parts demanding and teasing. Eli makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and whatever this started as doesn't matter because Fitz wants him. Wants him begging and pleading. Wants him panting and moaning. Wants him screaming his name until it's the only Eli can remember.

* * *

Which is exactly when Fitz wakes up. With a raging hard-on. And Eli's name on his tongue.


	4. Make Me Weak and Then Save Me

**AN: Dedicated to Vladdiechica for starting an Elitz forum and to SavetheRamen who made the vid I mentioned all the way back in chapter 1. Sigh, this chapter came out a little differently than I wanted. ButI think it's better than what I had originally intended anyways.**

**Warnings: Violence, Elitz**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi. If I did, this would ABSOLUTELY be a plot. **

**Chapter Four**

**Make Me Weak and Then Save Me**

This is ridiculous. Fitz is a senior, how can he _possibly _manage to loiter outside every single one of his classrooms? Eli is staring to freak out. Before school even started, there was Fitz goofing of with his goon squad. On his way to second, Fitz slams him forcefully into the lockers then cackles like a hyena. In the lunch line, Fitz's feet become impossibly tangled with his own and he tumbles to the ground. The final bell rings rings and Fitz is getting lectured for cutting class. It is a marked change from the willful ignorance the bully had been exuding since the alley fight that landed Eli a split lip and smug smile and Fitz a night in jail and a court hearing.

And Eli's friends are starting to notice.

"Wow, Fitz is really working overtime on his 'kill Eli slowly' vendetta." Adam comments with concern and humor the way only he can while Clare examines the shiny new bruise dominating the mass majority of the left side of his face. Her fingers ghost over the tender flesh and her eyes stare into his and it's one of those moments. You know, the kind that should be reserved solely for teen dramas on tv. Eli's absolutely convinced that in that moment Clare can see through him and every lie he's ever told straight to dirty, black soul.

He jerks away from her smooth, gentle hands and forces a hiss of pain through his teeth. She hasn't actually hurt him, he just needs to break the connection; to make her blind to his mask again.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Just don't...touch it." He says, sliding his eyes away from her beautiful baby blues.

"This has got to stop." Clare asserts, all righteous and protective. "He can't keep treating people like this."

"He's not treating 'people' like this, Clare." Eli snaps. And it's not her fault because she doesn't know, but he hates that she thinks she can lump together what Fitz does to everyone else and what he does to him. "He's treating _me _like this. And I can handle it."

Except, of course, that he can't. He's drowning in this, so far under that he can't remember the world before he lost sight of the surface.

"I'm," Clare stumbles over her apology, caught off caught off guard by the ferocity in his words and tone. Blindsided by the hurt. "I'm sorry."

"No. I'm sorry." It's not her fault, he reminds himself, she doesn't know. Can _never _know. "I don't know where that came from." Like hell he doesn't. He wonders if maybe he's too good at deceiving everyone around him.

"It's cool, man." Adam smooths over, throwing an arm over their shoulders. "Getting whaled on can put anyone in a bad mood."

If only getting whaled on was all he had to worry about...

"Yes, that's helping." Eli feels obligated to snark with feigned good humor. "Screw it, I'm gonna skip class, chill in Morty for a bit. Like, until I can blink without pain."

"You should go to the nurse." Clare says with the gentlest edge of reprimand; after all his hard work, she's still a good girl deep down inside. He thinks that's what makes him like her so much.

"Nah. 'I fell down the stairs' starts sounding really suspicious after the first time." Even though he's never been to the nurse and, if he had, he's far more than capable of coming up with a myriad of perfectly believable BS to spoon feed her. But Clare doesn't need to know that. And honestly, Eli just wants to open Morty up in the back, take advantage of all that rear storage space, and sleep for an hour or two.

"See you later." Adam acquiesces with a fist bump and a smile, dragging a slightly more disapproving Clare along with him.

* * *

Eli groans out in frustration. Owen and a gaggle of goons would choose just _this _period to skip and, of course, would have picked _today _of all days to park right freaking next to him.

"Hey, it's the death-boy." Someone says, drawing attention to the goth before he can turn around.

"I hear you like death." Owen says with a smile that reminds Ei of a sickly carnivore eyeing it's prey, and jumps off the hood of the old orange car.

Eli is so not in the mood for this. His face hurts. His chest hurts. His hands hurt. His everything hurts and he's in no condition to fight anyone, let alone half of the school's bullies.

"Maybe I just like the car."

"Who jacked your face up, man? I want to shake his hand." Jeers another face in the crowd.

"Your mom. Apparently, she likes it rough." And, dear gods, that mouth of his is going to get him killed.

"What did you say about my mother?"

"He said she likes it rough." Chimes in the only person who could make this situation worse.

Fitz.

Fuck. A normal fight, where fists and words are the only weapons, Eli could maybe handle. But there's no way he can take Fitz and everything he represents right now. Maybe Owen will make good on his implied threat and kill him.

But Eli doubts it.

Fitz hands, hands he knows better than his own, slip around his arms from behind. Fitz squeezes him tightly, so tightly Eli can scarcely breathe. Then, suddenly his feet lose their purchase on the ground beneath them and Eli knows where this leads. Sure enough, after a moment where Eli becomes terrified that the senior is just going to _hold _him, he's hurtling through the air. He hits the gritty pavement face first, gravel and dirt and pebbles digging into the tender and bruised flesh.

The rest of Fitz's cronies laugh like jackals and slap each other high fives. Fitz's silence passes unnoticed by everyone but the boy who is the cause of it.

"Let's get out of here." Fitz scoffs. "I don't want to catch dork."

Eli lies motionless on the ground, listening to them depart and praying that they don't come back.

Prayers are seldom answered.

"I saved your ass, you know." Fitz says calmly, casually, as if he wasn't the reason Eli needed saving in the first place.

"What do you want." Eli asks, climbing up from the pavement with a bitten off cry of pain. Rivets of crimson leak from the scattering of scrapes and cuts that now litter his face.

Something like remorse settles into his enemy's eyes. He takes a hesitant step forward, Eli takes a frightened step back. The pattern contines, Fitz advancing steadily with Eli struggling to avoid him. His back collides with Morty and he wants to scream. Because he knows with certainty whats coming next.

Fitz's hand reaches out. Eli flinches away, but the bully refuses to be detered and his calloused hand makes contact. Just...not where Eli was expecting. Rough hands, attempting vainly to be gentle, trace over every cut and scrape on his face. Fitz outlines every bruise on his body, from his face to his chest and stomach and back, including ones that only he and Eli know because he's the one who _put _them there.

"I'm sorry." The words ghost out and Eli isn't sure if Fitz even knows he's said them out loud. But before he can ponder their significance, Fitz's lips are on his, hungry and demanding, and Eli has no choice but to submit.

Fitz removes his hands, places them against the hearse on either side of Eli. Caging him in. Then his lips transverse from lips to jaw to neck. And between every almost gentle kiss, an equally almost gentle apology.

And when Fitz suddenly jerks away and storms from view, Eli is left standing there wondering what the hell just happened.


	5. Strike Me Down Part I

**AN: Yo, everyone! Chapter Five, appreciate it, cause it kicked my ass all over the place. Seriously, this chapter just didn't want to come out of my head. Elitz's first time, epically broken into two parts for your viewing pleasure.**

**Warnings: Flashback, violence, non-con/dub-con (what's the difference, seriously?)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi, or my name is Sally Marie Johnson. And it's not.**

**Chapter Five**

**Strike Me Down**

**Part I**

_"I'm in his head. Right where I want to be."_

~Elijah Goldsworthy, Try Honesty Part 2

Turns out, Fitz's head is a lot more fucked than Eli had given the cretin credit for. Which is why they're out in the alley behind the Dot trying to beat each other to death. Well, maybe not to death... They've managed to avoid nut shots at the very least.

Eli's trying to keep up, and he's not doing so bad, getting in a few blows of his own to match Fitz's. He doesn't have as much raw power, but he's definately got the larger boy topped with speed. Fitz's sledgehammer fist slams into his gut and Eli can't breathe. He stumbles back, tries to force air into suddenly uncooperative lungs. Fitz lunges forward, hands fist in the material of his shirt, a sharp tug, a heavy thud. Eli's lying facedown in the dirt.

Oxygen rushes in just in time to get forced out in the form of a choked off scream by Fitz's kick to the spine. Oh, mother of Jesus, Eli's afraid that Fitz might have actually done some damage. Hands on him again, because apparently Fitz isn't content to just kick him while he's down. A sickening swirl of motion that sends his head reeling, and Eli's staring up at Fitz's burning eyes as the older boy moves to straddle him.

"I fucking hate you." Fitz spits out, all anger and hate and...confusion? Then he does the last thing Eli ever expected.

Fitz crashes his lips to his.

Eli lies there, half under the older boy, paralyzed with shock. He couldn't have responded to Fitz's kiss even if he wanted to, and he didn't want to. Fitz pulls away, licks his lips, searches Eli's eyes. He must not find what he's looking for, because he bashes Eli's face, before kissing him again.

Realizing that this could very well in a situation he wants absolutely no part in, Eli begins to struggle. Fitz refuses to give him even an inch, rather he presses even closer. Their chests are touching now, as well as something that Eli would really rather pretend isn't...because Fitz is hard. For him. And that is something Eli can't begin to make sense of.

One hand stays knotted firmly in his shirt and Eli wishes the other would too as he feels it slip up and under his shirt to graze his bruising abs. He gasps out in pain and Fitz takes advantage, forcing his tongue into his mouth. The hand continues to wander while Fitz's tongue explores, darting over every crevice of Eli's mouth.

Eli flails, deperate to extricate himself from Fitz's grasp, to escape from everything Fitz is taking from him. Everything he can never take back.

His hands find purchase on Fitz's chest and he heaves the bully from him. "Get the fuck off me!"

He rolls away, springs to his feet, eyes searching for a way out. Any way out. Fitz looks up at him, dazed, confused. Lost. it throws Eli for a loop. And in that moment of uncomfortable insight, two things happened. First, Fitz surged to his feet, grabbed Eli by the collar, slammed him into the wall, and stated coldly that that hadn't happened.

"You hear me?" Fitz punches him in the face, harsh and angry. "It didn't happen." Then Fitz is gone, running down the alley to God knows where.

And the second thing? Icy realization coils in Eli's stomach. He can feel it creeping through him. It claws at his heart with the poisonous talons of this horrifying and sickening knowledge. Knowledge he'd give anything not to know.

Fitz is in _love _with him.

And not the nice, _when I think of him I smile _way. In the terrifying, _I want to own him, hold him down until he loves me too_ desperate sort of way. Mixed liberally with an excess of self-hatred redirected straight at Eli.

Eli turns to the side and throws up. It doesn't help. He feels sick. He cannot deal with this. He just _can't_.

* * *

Eli bolts upright in bed, skin soaked with cold sweat and heart pounding. He pulls in deep, frantic breaths. But he can't seem to calm himself, to remind himself that it was only a dream, a memory. Fitz isn't here, now, and he can't hurt him.

Unconsciously, a hand moves to his bludgeoning black eye, then falls down to his busted lip which has split open again in his sleep and begun to bleed.

_He can't hurt me now,_ he thinks, but _what's stopping him tomorrow_?


	6. Strike Me Down Part II

**AN: Holy cow, Fitz is so hard to write for. He has like NO cannon back story and that makes being in his head hard. So if he seems OOC, then it could only be expected.**

**Warnings: Violence, denial, angst, lust, the whole shebang...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi. I wish I had a clever way to say that...**

**Chapter Six**

**Strike Me Down**

**Part II**

_"What the hell do you want?"_

~Mark Fitzgerald, Try Honesty Part 2

The stupid little emo had gone and gotten him arrested. He'd gotten his ass handed to him just so he could beat him. What a piece of flaming shit. Fitz has to beat him down twice as hard now. Nobody pulls punkass shit like that on Mark Fizgerald. No one.

And those damned green eyes! Who has eyes that impossibly reckless and beautiful? It's just stupid. Like his smirk. Who the hell gave that kid that sexy twist of the lips that makes Fitz want to...

And he is officially ending that train of thought. Because Fitz isn't thinking about beautiful green eyes or seductive smirks. Nope. They're _enraging _eyes and _infuriating _smirks. That's what he means. Some times his head just gets confused. Yeah, that's it.

Which is why reaching a hand out to roughly snatch a hold of his collar and drag his punkass into the alley behind the Dot has nothing to do with Fitz just wanting to touch Eli and everything to do with kicking his gothic ass.

Really.

Geez, the little shit's fast. And those punches aren't just rolling off him either, where the fuck was _this _during their last fight? He lands a solid punch in the smug, smirking vixen's-er, _bastard's _stomach and Eli stubles back and away. But Fitz is having none of that, not today. His hands, almost of their own accord, reach out and take hold of his shirt and hurls him to the dirty alley ground.

He's lying there and Fitz feels just a second of hesitation, and **no **he does _not _know why, before he kicks the smaller boy hard in the spine. Eli lets out half a scream and Fitz can't help but respect that even lying in the dirt at his feet, Eli still won't let him see any weakness. Which officially means he deserves more than to just get the shit kicked out of him while he's lying prone on the ground...the sneaky shit probably would have grabbed his foot or done some other stupid, cliched thing away.

So Fitz once again finds his hands knotted tight in Eli's shirt, flipping him over so he can settle in and lay down some smack. Except those stunning green eyes are staring up at him, hazy and hurt and Fitz just wants to kiss the pain he's given him away.

"I fucking hate you." Lies. Lies he wants to be true. His life would be so much simpler if he could just hate Eli Goldsworthy and his smug smirks and daunting refusal to just lie down and _die_. And maybe he could if Eli hadn't won, hadn't challeged him with fists and words and made him a loser while the cops drove him away and Eli watched with his smirking lips busted and bleeding. If that hadn't been the single hottest thing Fitz had ever seen.

Fitz slams his lips down onto Eli's, tries to convey every thought, every feeling he's ever had. Hoping the younger boy feels the same. Hoping he can _make _him feel the same. But when he pulls away all that he sees in Eli's haunting green eyes is confusion and horror and disgust. His anger spikes, fueled by rejection and self-loathing, and he brings his fist down heavy and hard against Eli's fragile face. And when he kisses him again, Fitz can taste blood on his lips.

Eli begins to squirm, a vain attempt to move away, and Fitz responds by pressing down harder. Their touching now, nearly everywhere. Lips, chests, legs, groins. And, god, it's affecting Fitz in ways he'd never ever admit. His hand moves, slow, up and under Eli's shirt to run calloused fingers over flawless flesh. Muscules, hard and defined, twitch and jump at his every touch.

And then Eli manages to find a grip on him because suddenly Fitz is over and away from the boy he'd just been kissing. "Get the fuck off me!"

And that nails the facts home right quick. He's just kissed Eli. He's just kissed a boy who hates him. He's just kissed a _boy_. Snap your fingers and the anger's back, and Fitz slams his coulda-shoulda-woulda been lover up against the wall.

"This didn't happen, you little emo shit. You hear me?" Another heavy handed blow to the beautiful features of his infatuation. "It didn't happen."

And then, Fitz is gone. Running to god knows where to do god knows what. Probably to get wasted so he can forget this whole damned thing. Hell, maybe he'll even go home. All he knows is that he can't stay here, can't be anywhere near Eli and his mesmerizing eyes and his entrancing smirk, or he's going to slip up. He's going to do it again. Because the horrible truth he's been denying all along just ran up and bitchslapped him in the face.

Fitz is in love with Eli.

In a sad and panicked and really rather desperate way. And he doesn't know how to make the feeling stop.

* * *

Fitz jerks awake in the old orange car that Owen had bought for two hundred buck and then fixed up with thousands of dollars worth of stolen parts.

He wants to groan and throw things and tell the whole damn world that he's angry and confused. But he's in the car with two of the least tolerant people he knows with another freaking hard-on he got from a dream about Eli, so he settles for hopping quietly out of the vehicle and staggering into the night.

He doesn't need this shit in his life and he's not sure how much more of it he can take.

He wishes he was normal.

He wishes he and Eli could be normal.

He wishes they could be normal together.

He wishes this thing between them wasn't so hard.

He wishes Eli was his boyfriend instead of his bene-friend.


	7. Feels Like the End

**AN: I...have nothing to say about this. Read, review. I want to know your thoughts.**

**Warnings: It's going to get intense. I changed the rating for a reason...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.**

**Chapter Seven**

**Feels Like the End**

One minute, Eli's walking home from guys night. The next, Fitz is slamming him into the rough brick of a nearby alley. And he takes a second to wonder why there are so many freaking alleys around here. Seriously, if there were just one or two maybe he could avoid this whole situation by avoiding them. But, no, they're _everywhere_.

About three seconds into this internal rant, Eli notices that Fitz isn't talking. Not entirely unusually, but the senior does usually declare his eternal hatred about this time. Or, perhaps, visually demostrate it with a rousing game of Kick-the-Eli. But tonight Fitz is silent and still.

He stares, looking for answers Eli knows he can't give him. Fitz hasn't even touched him since dragging him here. He looks down and away, as though ashamed, and Eli thinks that maybe he'll just let him go for once. Maybe this can be over.

"Go to the dance with me." Or not. Wait, what?

"What?"

"Go. To the dance. With me."

Eli blinks. Waits for the punchline. Waits for something, anything, to tell him that Fitz isn't serious.

"What?"

"Come on, we'll steal a page from Riley's book. We could be Kings." Fitz says. And he's _serious_. Eli's stomach drops down somewhere around his knees.

"I can't go with you." Eli says around the lump quickly gaining mass in his throat.

"Why not?" Fitz's brow furrows, like he had never considered the possibilty that Eli would say no.

"I just can't." Eli is trying to make him understand without having to come out and say that he hates the boy in front of him. Hates him and the things he does.

"Why. Not?" And there's the anger Eli is so used to seeing, rising fast to the surface. Fitz's hands clench into fists and his eyes narrow dangerously.

"Fitz," Eli says, pleading just a little becuase he can't see a scenario where this conversation ends well.

"Answer me!"

"...I'm not..." Eli can see the moment that Fitz completes the thought he's so reluctant to voice. "I'm not gay."

"That's a lie." And he clearly believes it. "You like this." And his hands grab hold of his belt, fingers beginning to loosen it.

"No, I _don't_." Eli says because he can see several endings to this encounter and none of them are pretty. "Stop."

It feels good to say the words that have been poised at the tip of his tongue for months, to finally, _finally_, tell Fitz that he doesn't want this.

But Fitz doesn't want to listen.

"I know you feel it too." He's saying and there's a desperation in his eyes that sends Eli straight into full-on panic mode. "I can _make _you feel it."

"Fitz!" Eli cries out, pride long since forgotten as his pants fall around his knees and Fitz begins to work on his own. "Stop it! No!"

Fitz punches him then, hard and harsh and angry. There is more violence in that single blow than in any the bully had given before. Eli crashes to the ground, scraping the naked flesh of his thighs on rough cement.

And then Fitz is on him, hands rough and violent. Bruising grip and harsh weight and demanding everything Eli doesn't want to give.

"Stop! _Please_!" Eli tries desperately, hopelessly. But his pleas fall on deaf ears; Fitz isn't even there anymore, he's off somewhere where Eli loves him too.

He enters forcefully. Hands, vices locked around Eli's wrist, hold down strugglging limbs. Eli cries out because it _hurts_. And he can't make Fitz stop.

He's crying in earnest now, thick tears and choking sobs and the unrelenting knowledge that this is happening.

Fitz pounds into him, harder than Eli would have thought possible, and he wants to _die_. To stop breathing, to stop feeling. To be numb and cold and dead. So Fitz can never hurt him like this again.

He's still struggling and Fitz is having none of that, one hand loosens its grip long enough to knot in brown hair and slam his head against the ground. Eli feels something warm and wet slither down his face. Crimson coats his vision.

Eli stops moving, stops fighting. Something cold and numb settles over him and a hazy darkness hovers over his mind. He wonders, briefly, if this is what death feels like, if Fitz has actually killed him.

Then, he's stops thinking all together as the blackness takes him.


	8. Answer the Question

**AN: Angst. I write it a lot. I write it pretty well. This is some of it. Short but really, thinking clearly right now, Fitz is not.**

**Warnings: Anyone who's stuck around this long, after everythin that happened in 7, should know what to expect.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.**

**Chapter Eight**

**Answer the Question**

What. Did. I. _Do_.

The thought runs rampant, repeats over and over again.

What did I do?

It's the only thought.

What did I do?

Fitz stares down at Eli, bloody and bruised and bare, and he can't breathe. Can't move or speak.

Eli groans and the sound, so vulnerable and weak, spurs Fitz into action. He hastily pulls up their pants, but doesn't bother with Eli's belt. He's wasted enough time and, oh god, this is _all his fault_.

What did I do?

"Help!" He screams, scooping the semi-conscious boy into his arms and running.

What did I do?

"Somebody help me!" He cries, voice desperate and panicked, as the street comes into view and the alley fades away. "Oh, God, somebody! _Help_!"

Suddenly, there are people there. People calling 911. People asking questions Fitz can't answer, or won't. People with hands on Eli. His throat, his wrist. And none of these people will tell Fitz the only thing he wants to hear: he's okay, he's going to be okay.

What did I do?

Sirens can be heard echoing in the distance, and years spent running at the first sign of cops has Fitz backing away from the crowd and scouting for exit points. But then Eli moans again, pitiful and hurt because of _him_, and Fitz can't go. Can't leave him here, alone.

What did I do?

The ambulance arrives with paramedic who ask more questions doesn't have the answers to, or simply can't say. They still won't tell him Eli's okay. And now he's on a gurney, black clothes and dark hair juxtaposed against white sheets. They load him up and Fitz wants to follow, to make them tell him that Eli'll be okay. But he's not sure he will be, and Fitz doesn't want to know if he won't.

What did I do?

The constant, nagging question he already has the answer to. He wishes he didn't. Wishes didn't know. Wishes it hadn't happened.

What did I do?

The question, endless, is now a demand. Admit it, it screams in silence. Say it. Confess.

What did I do?

"I _raped _him..." the words are scarcely a whisper and barely reach his own ears, but they're enough. The Truth. Undeniable. Irrefutable. He raped him.

He raped _Eli_.

And he's running now. Away, to somewhere else. Anywhere. Any place that isn't here.


	9. Through the Valley of the Shadows

**AN: And now it's Adam's POV! I love that kid; he's just so cuddly. With a brief Clare POV interlude, but it's like three lines. Seriously.**

**Warnings: **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.**

**Chapter Nine**

**Through the Valley of the Shadows**

Adam cries when he hears. Screw man-pride, he cries like a girl.

He holds tight onto Clare, and she cries too. Her hands knot tight in his flannel shirt and she buries her face in his chest, soaking his shirt with her tears. He wraps her up in his arms like Eli couldn't, and holds her because they'll both drown if he doesn't. He holds her; she holds him.

And they cry.

His mom tries to talk to him about it. Tries to convince him that he doesn't have to stay there all the time. That surely someone, Eli's mother or Clare or _someone_, will call and let him know if anything's changed. She tells him she's worried. And subtly implies she thinks she's found Gracie buried under Adam, as if he couldn't mourn and grieve for his friend with loving him the way Clare does. After that, Adam tells her that he wants to be alone. Alone with Eli, even though he won't open his eyes. Alone with Clare, even though she looks dead inside.

She comes to yell at him for skipping school everyday anyway.

Clare stays at first. For days. Then her mother and father come and forcible remove her from the white walls and slow and steady sound of heart moniters and the raspy sound of machines that breathe for people who can't. She comes back; she always comes back. But eventually, she has to leave again; her parents always come back too.

The nurses all know him by name now. They never ask if he needs help getting a ride home anymore. They used to; now they know he's not going anywhere. They look at him with pity. Like they can see his heart breaking in his eyes and know that it's something the best doctor can't fix.

_Brain trauma. Comatose._

No. Adam shuts out the words. He will not believe it. He doesn't care how long he has to stay here, hunched over in a crappy plastic chair, holding the cold and clammy hand of his best friend. He refuses to acknowledge that there's a chance, getting bigger every second Eli doesn't wake up, that the pale goth will never open his eyes again.

"Adam." his mother jolts him awake. He blinks heavily, slowly. He doesn't remember falling asleep. His eyes dart to Eli, checking to see if, impossibly, something had changed while he slept.

Nothing has.

"I brought you some clothes and dinner." She holds up a plastic bag full of clothes he'll probably forget to change into and a tupperware container full of food he'll probably forget to eat.

"Thanks."

"You missed school again today." But the attempted reprimand sounds forced even to him. She's given up, resigned herself to the fact that until Eli gets over this and opens up his goddamned eyes, Adam isn't leaving. He thinks she's known it all along; after all she's never done anything more than talk at him, she's never tried to make him go.

"I know."

"Will you go tmorrow?" There's no hope in the question. She asks him the same thing everyday; his answer never changes.

"If Eli does."

"What if he doesn't wake up?" This is a new question and Adam snaps his attetnion to her, rage dancing in his stormy eyes.

"He will."

"What if he doesn't?"

"He _will_. He has to." Adam doesn't know what he'll do if he doesn't. Mrs Torres puts a hand on his shoulder,a comforting gesture that he barely feels.

"Call me when you're ready to come home?" Adam nods and doesn't tell her that she'll be waiting for a long time.

He's not going anywhere.

* * *

**Two weeks and five days later**

_The longer he stays under, the greater the chance that he won't wake up._

Adam stares at his sleeping friend. And he _is _sleeping. Because you can add all the fancy letters after your name that you want, you're not changing Adam Torres's mind. Eli will wake up. The cut that starts at his left temple and stretches across his forehead to just over his eye, the reason that Eli is still here instead of plotting evil revenge with Adam and Clare, is bruised and ugly. Adam wishes the doctor's would bandage it again. Except he doesn't, because that always made Eli look so much worse. A glaring white reminder that Eli is a trauma victim whose chances of waking up are getting smaller every second.

"Hoh." A strangled wheeze. Adam tries not to get his hopes up; the doctors have told him before that sounds like that are usually meaningless. The hand in his, limp and deathly chilled, tightens.

Adam's heart decides it would much rather occupy his throat than his chest. He can't remember how to breathe. Eli's eyes flicker.

"AHHHHHH!" Eli screams as he wakes violently: bolting upright, grip nearly crushing the hand grasped in it, eyes wide and confused and scared and _open_. His chest heaves with shuddering breaths and his whole body trembles.

Adam surges to his feet and envelopes the shaking goth in the tightest hug he can. Nurses rush in, alerted by Eli's blood-curdling scream. And, of course, they pry him off the patient to do the important things like call the doctor and check his vitals and all that otherstuff that Adam couldn't care less about because Eli is awake.

He's pushed out of the room by well meaning people, and Adam wants to stay but knows he can't. Which is when he realizes he has some very important things to do. Right now.

His fingers refuse to remain steady as he types in the number. Half a ring and Clare's voice is in his ear.

"Adam?" He can hear the class around her, can hear the teacher demanding that she hang out and give him the phone right now.

"He's awake." The words tumble out.

* * *

"He's awake." the words echo in Clare's ear and then she's snapping her phone shut and running. The teacher is shouting and her classmates are staring. But for once in her life, Clare honestly couldn't care less.

Eli's awake.

That's all that matters.

* * *

The connection goes dead and Adam knows Clare's on her way. More numbers, more people to inform. Eli's mom, his mother, Drew. And then, they're letting him back in.

"Hey Goth-boy."

"Machismo." The smirking smile he shows is a hollow imitation of the old. Something dark and haunting hides behind his emerald gaze.

"Scare me, much? Geeze dude." Adam tries for levity, but for once Eli's having none of that.

"What do they know." And Adam can't help notice that he doesn't sound like he wants to know so he can plan bloody vengeance; he sounds like he's terrified of them knowing anything.

"You were jumped after guys night..." Adam's eyes slide away. He doesn't want to tell him the rest; that he knows about the rest. About the...rape. He's not supposed to know. If he hadn't been practically living in the hospital, he wouldn't. He wishes he didn't. But he does.

"You know." Adam doesn't think Eli could have put more pain in those two words if he had tried.

"Yeah." Because there's no point in lying now. "Do you...do you know...who?"

"...Fitz..." and there is such pain in his best friend's eyes that Adam considers hunting the bully down right this very second and sliting his throat. "Don't...don't tell Clare."

Adam wants to tell him that she'd love him anyways, that she wouldn't, _couldn't_, blame him for this. But Eli has so many scars, under and beneath everything he's become, and he's _scared_.

"Okay, man." Adam says with the obligory fist bump. "I won't."

**AN2: Hey, I've got a vidder on youtube willing to do an Elitz! Everybody be happy! But I don't have a song! Everybody be sad! So, at the fabulous Vladdiechica's suggestion, I'm opening it up to you, my awesome readers. Some ideas: "So Help Me God" by Fireflight, "Safest Place" by Thousand Foot Krutch, "Apologize" by One Republic, and "Victim" by Trapt. Drop a review and let me know what you think!**


	10. It's Too Late To Apologize

**AN: Eli's first day back back at Degrassi. This can only end well. -insert sarcasm here-**

**Warnings:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.**

**Chapter Ten**

**It's Too Late To Apologize**

Eli's hands start to shake, so he shoves them in his pockets. He doesn't want to deal with this right now.

He doesn't want to deal with this ever.

It didn't happen as far as he's concerned. Now if only there wasn't a jagged, if ruggedly handsome according to Clare, scar reminding him every time he looked in the mirror.

Clare loops an arm through his with a reassuring smile. Sometimes he hates that she can read him so well. He doesn't want to acknowledge that he needs to reassured. Adam cracks a smile and then pretends to gag behind his hand. The action is so jarringly normal that Eli has no choice but to smile. Things don't have to change, he tells himself. He can just go to school and date Clare and hang out with Adam and nothing has to change.

Which is when he sees _him_.

Eli's heart stops beating. His lungs stop breathing. His eyes stop seeing. His feet stop moving.

And then as if making up for lost time everything is going two times fast. Heatbeat, breathing, blurring-whirling vision, shaking-trembling muscles. Eli wonders if this is what a panic attack feels like.

_He's _coming this way. _He's _coming here. _Here_.

Black speckles his vision, little flakes of nothing that threaten to overwhelm him. A trembling hand comes out of his pocket, disengaging his arm-lock with Clare and he clutches at his chest. Suddenly everything hurts all over.

_"I can _make _you feel it."_

Oh god. Adam steps in front of him, so protective, and suddenly Eli doesn't want to be protected. He wants Fitz to grab hold of him and finish what he started when he slammed his head into the pavement. He wants Fitz to do it over and over until he sees crimson blood and white bone and gray brain. Until there's nothing left of Elijah Goldsworthy.

"Eli," Fitz starts. No. Eli doesn't want to hear this. Doesn't want to hear the voice that haunted his nightmares when he couldn't wake up. "I'm so sorry."

Something, somewhere, snaps. Eli's bent and bent and bent until he no longer resembled anything like himself but he can't bend anymore.

He's _broken_.

"You're sorry?" Eli hates the way his voice trembles and breaks. "You're _sorry_?" He doesn't make the conscious decision to, but he's pushing past Adam and slamming his fist as hard as he can into Fitz's monstrous, remorseful face. He topples like a sack of potatoes.

And Eli starts kicking him. Face, stomach, arms, legs. Anything and everything he can reach. He can hear Clare screaming at him, begging him to stop, but he can't remember why that should matter. All he knows is that this boy, this man, this monster took something from him that he can never get back. Took everything from him.

And then, Adam's there. Arms locking around him and dragging him away whispering words that used to be important in his ears.

"You'll never touch me!" Eli finds himself shouting at the boy curled around himself on the ground. "Never again. _Never_."

Adam hauls him to Morty and practically throws him inside. "Go home."

"What?" Bits of the real world are slipping in again. Clare's staring at him a mix of confusion and horror, and he can't tell which side is winning or at whom the horror is directed.

"Go home. I'll talk to Simpson." And then he's leaving, tugging Clare along after him.

And Eli's left sitting in a hearse shaking like a leaf in wind, clinging desperately to the last shreds of his sanity and feeling himself losing grip.


	11. All Falls Down

**AN: This chapter has NOTHING to do with the actual episode "All Falls Down" Part I or II.**

**Warnings: **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi**

**Chapter Eleven**

**All Falls Down**

The doorbell rings and Eli is surprised to see Clare on his front porch. Again.

"Taking up stalking?" he tries to joke like he used to. Like they used to. "It works better when you don't ring the bell." He wonders if she can tell that his smile is a fake, slapped onto his face like a sticker.

Of course she can. She knows him far too well.

"Tell me." Her voice is just the same as the last time she stood on his porch, demanding answers she's not sure she wants. He peels off the sticker-smile and replaces it with honest weariness. He doesn't want to tell her. To confirm what she already knows in the fartherest corner of her heart.

"I don't want to." Try honesty for a change, Eli, he goads himself. Try it when you know it won't cut it this time.

"Eli." She says his name the way he can't stand. All disappointed and sad and he knows that she knows he can't do anything but give in when she does that.

And it's worse, because he can see she's already figured it out. Or at least part of it. That it was Fitz. She knows that Fitz did it; she just doesn't know what he's _done_.

"You don't want to know." He tries to convey the truth with every word, tries to make her realize that's she's wrong and that what's been done to him is monstrous beyond words. Something that should never taint her beautiful innocence.

"It was Fitz, wasn't it?" She prods, realizing he's not going to come out and say it. "You were fighting with him. Again."

She takes his silence as confirmation. She's only half-wrong, he reasons, why not let her believe the lie a little longer. Clare's a bright girl; she'll figure it out soon enough.

"You have to tell the police." There's that righteousness in her eyes again.

"No." He can't. He'd rather die.

"He could have killed you, Eli!" She cries out, frustrated because she can't understand why he's being stubborn about this. And he can't make himself tell her. "You could have _died_."

"No."

"This is no time for pride!" She looks like she's almost ready to hit him, to knock some sense into him the old fashioned way. He'd let it happen.

He always lets it happen.

He let Julia die.

He let Fitz touch him.

Hurt him.

_Rape _him.

He let it all happen.

It's _all his fault_.

"It's not about pride..." He can't force the rest of the words past his lips. Words that tell her that he thinks he might love her and words that tell her he's terrified of everything in his life and words that whisper the truth about that night.

"Then what's it about, Eli?" The words are hushed, and she's on the verge of crying because she doesn't understand. He can see the tears shining, unshed, in her beautiful blue eyes. Because he can't make her understand.

It's not about _pride_.

It's about _shame_.

She stares into his eyes, searching for the answers he's refusing to yield. But he stays silent. She shakes her head, tears starting slip free as she turns away from him. She starts to walk away from him and it's deja vu all over again.

His hand around her elbow, swinging her to face him. Blue eyes, crying, and green eyes, refusing to do the same, clash. He pulls her to him, closer than she's ever been before, closer than he's ever let her get. He hides his face between her shoulder and neck.

Something warm and wet slides down his cheek and crashes onto her skin. He squeezes his eyes closed, trying to will the stupid-foolish-_useless_-pointless tears away.

"Rape." Eli whispers that word, the one that tore his world apart at the seams and then set it on fire. She stiffens in his arms, surprised-shocked-_horrified_-scared, then she's holding him. Arms wrap around Eli's slender frame while he shakes-quivers-_trembles_-quakes. "...He raped me..."

And there's nothing for him to do but hold her back, clinging desperately to Clare, and cry. Hands clutching at her back, begging without words for her to stay. Begging for her to stay.

And she does.


	12. Tonight I Am Healing

**AN: It's over... Weep with me, my Elitz lovers. Weep. Gah, I hated that I had to end it, but I couldn't force it into being longer without completely destroying it. Read, I wrote it for you. For all of you who demanded that I continue what could have been just another pitiful one-shot, this is yours just as much as it's mine.**

**Warnings:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.**

**Chapter Twelve**

**I'm Having Trouble Breathing, Tonight I Am Healing**

The Door.

Capital T. Capital D.

The Door.

Eli doesn't think he can do this. The Door is immovable, impenetrable.

Clare slips a hand into his. Adam rests a hand on his shoulder.

"You can do this." Clare tries to reassure him with a small smile, squeezing his hand.

"No. I can't." Eli tries to back away, to run. This was a bad idea. Damn Clare and her eyes that make him want to agree to anything.

Adam's hand tightens on his shoulder, holding Eli in place. "Yes. You. Can."

Eli swallows hard and silently damns his best friend to hell with his girlfriend. Can't they see The Door? How can they possibly expect him to walk through it?

"Maybe tomorrow?" He tries to compromise.

"You've been saying that for a week." Adam says, manhandling him a step closer to The Door. When did he get so freaking strong anyways?

"Maybe he means it this time?" Yes! Thank you, Clare. Eli instantly rescinds her damnation.

"He's got to do this, Clare." Adam says, way too mature to be the little sophomore Eli had befriended at a Dead Hand concert. She nods in agreement, resolve hardening in her eyes.

Oh, let the damnation recommence.

Abstractly, he knows they're right. He can't keep holding this to himself because it's suffocating him from the inside out.

But that doesn't mean he's ready to admit it.

Clare opens The Door and smiles at Ms. Souve. Adam pushes him in. Straight through the door, that suddenly doesn't have any capitals.

"Clare, Adam, Eli?" Because all of them have been her office at some point. Family problems, trans-issues, anger-management. "What's going on?" Because they have never been in _together_.

"We're not staying." Clare says, all smiles and christian-good-girl. Adam's already half way out the door with a jaunty wave and carefree smile. She gives him a quick, comforting hug. "You can do this." she whispers in his ear.

"Hey, Eli..." Souve greets uncertainly, not sure what she's supposed to make of this situation. "Something you want to talk about?"

No. Something he'd rather die than say.

"Kinda." his eyes start roaming, unable to look her in the eyes. Unable to open up. To reveal this gaping wound etched into his being, as real and permenant as the scar on his face.

"Why don't you take a seat?"

Because i don't want to be here.

"Okay." He sits. A chair far away from the counsilor, half hidden in shadows. He wants to hide. He doesn't want her to be able to see him.

They sit in silence. Eli praying she never asks him another question. Hoping he can just sit here for a while and then Clare and Adam will leave him alone about this. Even if he knows they mean well. Even if he knows he needs this.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Everything.

"Everything." He hadn't meant to say that out loud. Except, he probably did. He wishes his voice didn't sound so helpless though. He's tired of being helpless.

Souve's eyes widen, concerned. Eli is always so sarcastic and cold when he's sent in here. The abrupt change is disconcerting, he's sure. She opens her mouth for further questioning, but Eli holds up a hand to stop her. He can do this. He really doesn't have a choice. The weight of it is crushing him.

But he needs a second to organize his thoughts. To make it make sense. To make sure he can reel in all the confusing and painful the emotions rolling around inside his head.

"It all started with a stupid fight..."


End file.
